“You rather take my breath away, Mr. Bathurst,” said Goodall very quietly. “Permit me to return your question—what did you?”
“I had no doubt you would pick it up,” he said, “and I’ll answer your question quite frankly.” He walked across to the bookcase, and standing with his back to it had his three hearers in front of him, Peter on his right, and the two officers on his left. “O’Connor’s bicycle, gentlemen, was used last night to carry somebody from this house into Assynton. In my opinion it carried the murderer of Stewart—if not the murderer, certainly his or her accomplice—but I fancy the murderer.” He watched the three faces to see the effect of his opinion. Goodall became critical at once.
“Who placed the bicycle in the shed then?” he asked cautiously.
Bathurst’s reply came just as quickly. “The murderer, of course.”
Goodall screwed up his face as though unconvinced. “You mean, then, that the murderer returned—that the murderer lives——”
Anthony interrupted him. “I mean that if my theory holds good—that the murderer used the machine and not an accomplice—he is either in this house now or very near it. He or she.”
But Goodall stuck to his guns. “But why go away to come back again?—that’s what beats me.”
“More than one reason might supply a reasonable answer to that question, Inspector. The murderer may have wished to hide something, for instance. He may have gone to meet somebody even. Thirdly, he may have gone to deliver an important message.” He paused to consider the three possibilities he had named. Then looked straight across to Goodall. “I am inclined to the third suggestion myself, Inspector. Rather strongly as a matter of fact.” He came away from the bookcase, giving Peter Daventry an impression—vague perhaps—that the final word had been spoken.
Goodall shook his head rather doubtfully. “Theories are all very well in their way, Mr. Bathurst—but if I were to go chasing after all the theories I have put in front of me—I should be well set to work—can’t you give me something more definite on which your theories have been based—something more tangible?”
Anthony thrust his hands into his pockets with a gesture of impatience. “Of course I can, Inspector. Surely you don’t think I make statements of this kind irresponsibly? ’Pon my soul, I feel rather like picking up your challenge and being much more explicit than I had intended to be.” He paced to the bookcase and then came back again. “That bicycle was almost certainly ridden into Assynton after the murder had been committed. For the reason, in my opinion, that immediate communication had to be established between this end of the tangle and the other—or if you prefer it—between Assynton Lodge and the people that murdered Mason at the Hanover Galleries the same night.” He paused, and Peter Daventry noticed that Inspector Goodall was listening keenly and critically—punctuating Anthony’s remarks with sharp, quick movements of the head. “I deduce an urgent telephone message,” continued Anthony, “something had happened here that made instantaneous action imperative—the ’phone was the only way. Obviously the ’phone in the house itself must not be used—the nearest is in Assynton village—the nearest that would also be safest. If you like, I will embroider my theory somewhat.” He smiled as he sensed the improvement in his “atmosphere.” He was beginning to “get over!” “I deduce also, Inspector, that this urgent telephone message was very probably to an hotel. I think that we are dealing with a dangerous set of criminals who mean to stick at nothing to gain their ends and who in all likelihood had prepared their plans very thoroughly to meet all emergencies. If quick telephone communication formed a link in their connection system those of them who are conducting the operations from the other end were probably stopping at a quiet hotel. They don’t appeal to me as likely to be permanent residents in the West End of London, so I incline to the probability of an hotel.” He turned to Inspector Goodall decisively. “Let me make a suggestion, Inspector! Try to trace a telephone message from Assynton about 11:20 on the night before last.” Goodall broke in with an exclamation of incredulity. But Bathurst held up his hand and went straight on. “A message to an hotel—I’ll give you a list that I fancy will contain the identical one.”